17. The Worshippers of Ares

Sage stepped out of the café and half turned to hold the door open for Cesar to follow her.

"Sage."

She snapped her head around at the sound of her name being uttered by a husky male voice, and blinked in surprise.

"Ezekiel..." It seemed a very long time since he had last waited for her after work. She let the door shut (forgetting about Cesar) and approached the quiet gangster.

Cesar smacked into the glass door and pouted – he opened his mouth to protest but Markus was at his elbow. Markus spotted the Mad Dog and quickly yanked Cesar away from the door.

"Huh?" Cesar questioned.

"Shoebill's here for Sage. Stay here until he's gone." Markus towed Cesar deeper into the café, his grip tight on Cesar's elbow.

"Why?"

"I don't want you near him. He's a creep."

Cesar's expression brightened and his eyes were wide with hope.

"Are you being worried about me right now?"

Markus scowled. But there was a slight flush to his cheeks that gave Cesar further hope.

Outside, Sage stopped in front of Ezekiel.

"Hey," she greeted softly.

"Has there been any more trouble here?"

She shook her head and thanked him for his help earlier.

"None of the lads will give you trouble in the future," Ezekiel promised. He'd given them very clear orders. But still he was worried.

"Thank you."

An awkward silence fell between them. Sage tucked her hair behind her ear, wishing she could think of something to say.

"Sorry, babe." The sound of Ares' drawling voice made Sage jump out of her skin. "I didn't mean to be late picking you up." Ares had appeared out of nowhere and Sage stared anxiously at him. What if Ezekiel had noticed Ares materialise beside them? She wanted to hit him for being so careless. Also, what was he talking about? They'd never agreed for him to pick her up.

Ares put a not-so-subtle arm around Sage's shoulders. He paid attention to how Ezekiel's face darkened in response, jealousy making the Mad Dog's gaze searing. Ares smirked, good, he thought smugly. Then you should understand – Sage is mine.

The two men sized up one another, hostility thick in the air between them. Sage attempted to shrug Ares' arm off her, but he only became a dead weight around her neck in response. Clearly, he wasn't going to budge.

"You again." Ezekiel's voice was gruff. Ares smiled, though rather then seeming friendly Sage suspected that he was baring his teeth at the Mad Dog.

"We should get going," Sage interjected, wanting this encounter to end. "Bye."

Ares allowed Sage to steer him away from Ezekiel and in the vague direction of home. Sage knew the moment they were out of sight because Ares finally loosened his grip on her. "Cool it with the possessiveness, space man." She grumbled. It was strange to consider why he was jealous.

"What are you thinking?" Ares asked, after they'd been walking in silence for a couple of minutes.

"I was thinking about what would have happened if you hadn't taken the arrow. I'd be in love with Ezekiel now."

Ares' brows furrowed, his expression turning anxious.

"How does that idea make you feel?"

"Angry. Because it would have meant I was being controlled somehow. My feelings wouldn't have been my own and-" She stopped suddenly and looked up Ares. It wasn't hard to guess where her thoughts had gone.

"Yes," he replied simply. That was how he had felt – in the beginning.

"You feel angry?"

"I did. I felt powerless. I still feel powerless sometimes."

"But not angry?"

"I'm too happy to be angry."

Sage took a deep breath, trying not to think about how attractive Ares had looked when he'd said that. Ares' smile was a superpower on its own.

"Can nothing be done? Is the arrow definitely incurable?"

"Definitely."

"But you're the god of war." Surely, he could fight anything. Even love.

Ares took Sage's hand, holding it as they walked. He liked the feel of her warm hand in his.

"It cannot be undone. But.... it's not entirely terrible, being in love with you."

"Gee, thanks."

Ares smiled, amused by her tone.

"I don't miss my home quite so badly anymore. Between Olympus and you," he lowered his head to whisper in her ear, "I'd rather be in you."

Sage hit his arm.

They were making their way to Sophie's flat and another thought occurred to Sage.

"Am I going to live with you forever?"

"I hope so."

"No, I mean, when will the threat of Aphrodite be over?"

Ares was silent. The threat would never be over – not unless he took care of it. The sharp edge of Bronte's sword came to mind. It had the power to kill even an immortal. Could he use it?

Could he kill the goddess of love?

**

"Sage!" Cesar beckoned Sage over excitedly, wanting to show her something on his phone. It was early in the day and the café hadn't got busy yet. Sage put down the cloth she'd been cleaning with and headed over.

"It's not another photoshopped picture of Markus is it?" She asked warily.

Cesar was always taking candid pics of their chef and then cropping himself into the image so that they looked like a couple. These pictures weren't so bad, demented – yes. But the last time Cesar had photoshopped Markus' head onto the body of a naked man. The term 'mental scaring' came to mind.

Cesar shook his head impatiently. It wasn't a picture that he wanted to show her, it was a website.

"The worshippers of Ares?" She read out loud, frowning.

"It's a fan page, see, isn't that the guy you're dating? He's got a huge following. The people on here love posting pictures of him. Look, there's ones of him in the cafe. I wondered why we were getting so busy lately."

"We're not dating." Sage mumbled. She scrolled through the comments. One of the pictures had her in it and the comments below were savage.

"They think you are. And they want to lynch you – they don't approve."

"They're calling me 'the slutty waitress' and think that I'm after his money! He doesn't even have money. This one says that I'm 'unworthy' of their idol. How many crazy stalkers does he have?"

"Enough that the fan page has a president and a deputy."

"What the hell!?"

"Not all the women are hating on you. Some want you to tell them what he's like in the sheets."

"I haven't touched their precious idol! They can keep him. Here, give me that."

"What are you doing?"

"Replying."

Cesar backed away, sensing trouble.

**

Ares turned up when Sage was doing her evening deliveries.

"Let me help you," he offered – taking the heavy cool box.

"Do you know that you have a fan club?" She asked, skipping all pleasantries. She's had a stimulating day, arguing with a thousand Ares-stalker-fans.

"A fan club?" He seemed confused by the term.

"There's people, mainly women, who follow you and obsess about you. They've been commenting today about your new shoes. 80 percent love them by the way."

"Only 80?"

"Ares," Sage snapped. "Focus, did you know that they were following you?"

Ares shrugged.

"I'm a god, I've always had followers. I used to have temples," he sighed, "those were good days."

Sage grinded her teeth angrily and muttered to herself. Unfortunately, Ares had excellent hearing. "Did you just call me an obnoxious twat?" Rather then being offended, he seemed amused. "What's got you so miffed? Weren't you aware that I'm popular?" He grinned. Sage snorted but an angry vein was throbbing in her temple.

"They think you're human, remember. Those fans think they're obsessed with someone the same species as them."

Ares rose an eyebrow.

"If they knew I was a god, they'd be even more infatuated. It's only you who pretends that isn't exciting."

"I pretend?! You think I'm pretending?!"

"You pretend that you aren't into me."

Sage scoffed.

"You think that I'm into you?" She shook her head. "I was right, you are an obnoxious-"

"If you were so immune to me, you wouldn't care that I have followers."

"I... I...." Sage struggled to immediately retort and Ares' smug grin stretched wider. "No, no you haven't won! Your crazy stalkers are-"

"Stop talking," Ares cut in suddenly. His smile gone.

Sage opened her mouth to keep on arguing, but his expression stopped her.

"What's wrong? Ares?"

Ares' gaze rose to the sky.

"She's coming..."

"Who? Ares, who's coming?"

Ares tried to clear his mind, needing to prepare for the fight ahead.

"Aphrodite."